Most Like an Arch
by glamaphonic
Summary: A RoyRiza drabble collection. #17: Preparation - They didn't come here for this.
1. Overtime

**Author's Note:** This month I'm doing a self-imposed challenge during which I write one drabble each day. Most of them will probably be Roy/Riza-related, so I'm collecting them here. The title of the collection itself is from the poem "Most Like an Arch This Marriage" by John Ciardi which is both super pretty and super about Roy/Riza.

* * *

**Overtime**

They still stay late more often than they'd like.

Static from Fuery's radio is their only company, remnants of a political talk show they mostly ignored.

Riza flexes her fingers and rubs her eyes at regular intervals. Roy has done little but watch her for twenty minutes.

She raises an eyebrow when he goes to the radio. Piano and strings drift out across the room.

"We're working," she says as he pulls her into the circle of his arms.

"We're taking a break."

He hums along, slightly off-key. Riza's eyes slip closed when her cheek presses against his shoulder.


	2. Interlude

**Author's Note:** Takes place right before Roy goes to Central HQ to investigate Bradley in episode 25/chapter 50.

* * *

**Interlude**

Her spare uniform trousers have creased in the trunk of his car. The Colonel winces as he buttons his jacket.

He knows her smiles and her silences, so the look in her eyes can't be hard to read. When he kisses her, it is a reassurance.

Riza pushes back, clutches at him, and turns it into something far more desperate.

Neither of them knows what he's about to walk into exactly, but it feels like the jaws of the beast.

He runs his hand through her hair once before she clips it up.

When they drive again, they don't speak.


	3. Compromise

**Compromise**

In the dark, Riza shifts in bed, movements swift and economical. Roy's arm tightens around her waist. She can feel the rumble of his voice where his chest presses against her back.

"Where're you going?" he mumbles.

"Your feet are freezing."

Roy makes a whining sound to rival Hayate at his most pathetic.

"It's only the other side of the bed," Riza chides.

"Too far."

His lips press against her neck, slide along her nape. Riza sighs.

She grabs one of his pillows and sticks it under the covers, a barrier wedged between their calves.

Roy smiles against her earlobe.


	4. Smug

**Smug**

"Rest assured, I've no plans to hold this against you, Lieutenant."

Riza squints against the dim light of the archive room. The paperclip she's jury-rigging to the closure of Roy's trousers refuses, in turn, to keep them closed or stay hidden.

"Your desire for me just burns too bright—too strong to be contained."

Her own uniform has been sufficiently reordered and, more importantly, is in one piece. The brass button sits heavy in her pocket.

"You were-"

"One more word and I swear I'll leave you here."

He quiets. Riza feels like she can still hear his grin.


	5. In Flagrante

**In Flagrante**

Roy's lips are against her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. She clenches her legs at his waist. He mumbles, ardent and incoherent into her collarbone.

Riza can't feel anything but him—the heat of his skin, his hair wound about her fingers—until something cold and wet presses against the sole of her foot.

Riza yelps. Roy startles. He rolls off of her and off of the bed.

A thud and an emphatic "Fuck!" follow.

Hayate stares at Riza, tongue lolling.

"You lied about locking the door again."

His voice drifts up, profoundly resigned.

"I was preoccupied at the time."


	6. Efficiency

**Efficiency**

Riza slips into wakefulness under the steady stream of water. There are better ways, but she can't afford a late start today.

Her eyes are closed, her head bowed, and she's mentally running through her To Do list, so she doesn't acknowledge Roy until he plucks at the shower curtain.

"Wait your turn," she calls.

"Sharing is quicker."

Riza pulls back the shower curtain. His smile is slight, but hopeful. His towel is slung low and loose on his hips.

"No. It isn't," Riza notes.

Roy shrugs. His grin widens. "Probably not, but you don't really care."

He isn't wrong.


	7. For the Weary

**For the Weary**

Only years of practice prevent Riza from slumping to the floor the moment she passes the threshold. Behind her, Roy rests a hand lightly between her shoulderblades anyway.

Black Hayate snores, curled up half on his bed and half on one of Roy's shirts. Riza moves to put the kettle on, but Roy catches her arm.

They shuffle into their bedroom instead. He tugs off her boots and she tosses his pajama bottoms in his general direction.

Their lips meet, briefly, affectionately, in the dark and Riza is asleep, curled up against his side, before the sensation has entirely faded.


	8. Signs

**Author's Note:** Set a few years post-canon.

* * *

**Signs**

There are a lot of ways to tell—far more than Maria expected or any of them is comfortable knowing.

Hawkeye absently bites her lip. Mustang stares at her for far too long before clearing his throat and looking away.

If they disappear for longer than is reasonable in the late hours, no one dares go look for them.

They come in late and the general is humming to himself. Hawkeye is practically smirking on the way to her desk.

Havoc groans unsubtly while Fuery locks his eyes on his work.

Maria makes a face at Breda across the room.


	9. New

**New**

They aren't so far gone that they hold hands as they walk the halls, but they still move like they're caught in each other's gravitational pull.

It's late enough that the break room is empty. The night shifts just started and most who've been in since morning had the good sense be home by now.

Riza smiles. "I don't think those files are here, sir."

"How can we know unless we check?"

She runs her hands up his sides, under his jacket, still learning the lines that make him up. He kisses her like he's already forgotten how it feels.


	10. Reorder

**Reorder**

East City is much the same as before. Of course, they weren't gone for very long, just eight months that felt like a lifetime.

Riza's new place is larger. She pretends it's because she's just gone up a pay grade. There are other considerations behind the full-sized stove, bigger bed, and actual living room hidden somewhere beneath unpacked boxes, but they still feel too fragile to say aloud.

"It's nice," Roy says, though he's only given it a cursory glance from the doorway before his eyes fix on her again.

Riza opens the door wide and invites him in.


	11. Ordinary

**Ordinary**

Riza doubts she'll ever get used to it.

The weight of everything between them has been an inescapable part of her life since she was a child. What they have now is still new. It feels like a leftover daydream-them being normal people sometimes.

Roy's book is forgotten on the table, Riza's legs thrown across his lap as he kisses along her neck.

When he looks up, her expression betrays her. His gaze is questioning.

She smiles into his mouth when she kisses him, tries to capture _I'm happy_ in the sweep of her tongue.

She's sure he understands.


	12. Resolution

**Author's Note:** This immediately follows my fic "On the Line."

* * *

**Resolution**

It's no easier in the morning.

Riza wakes to Roy's hand heavy on her hip, his soft breath stirring her hair where it's splayed across the pillow.

She considers not waking him, curling up against him and going back to sleep, locking the rest of the world away for a while longer.

His eyelids flutter then, lashes dark against his skin.

When his eyes focus on her, the look in them makes her want even more than she thought possible.

"So," he says, voice still rough with sleep.

She knows what she should say, but the words refuse to come.


	13. Stealth

**Stealth**

"Do you really think they know?"

When Riza sighs, her stomach brushes against Roy's on the inhalation. Her right leg is caught between his, their bodies pressed together from hip to sternum.

"Rebecca does," she says. Her fingers trace through his hair making idle designs on his scalp.

"That's your fault." Roy's smile is the lazy, contented one that she loves best. Riza doesn't try to stop the emotion welling up in her chest.

"Have you _seen_ your face?"

"I've seen yours," he counters, and Riza feels her own grin threatening.

She kisses him then, rather than incriminate herself further.


	14. Legacy

**Legacy**

Her father is buried alone but for her and Roy looking on in silence.

Fall has only just started to show itself, but Roy has his military great coat wrapped around him like a shield. The collar of Riza's jacket doesn't stop the wind from brushing across the nape of her neck like hesitant fingers.

Her father is dead and it seems obscene to think about what happens next, but she knows what she was meant for.

She lets out a deep, shuddering breath. Roy shifts closer and Riza can almost feel the desire to take her hand.

He doesn't.


	15. Stroll

**Stroll**

Black Hayate is too well-trained to tug at his leash, but his tail is wagging furiously. Riza releases him and he darts off across the grass, running in joyous circles.

He'll be back soon to beg Roy into a game of fetch, which usually involves Roy running after the ball far more than Hayate.

For now, Roy stands beside her, his smile soft in the afternoon sunlight. His side is pressed against hers, the memory of his warmth still vivid.

She winds the leash up and tucks it into her bag, then takes his hand, twining their fingers together.


	16. Rotten

**Rotten**

Roy's hair tickles her ear as he rests his chin on her shoulder. His chest is firm against her back and Riza toys with his right hand where it drapes across her stomach. His left arm is a serviceable pillow, warm under her cheek.

Black Hayate snoozes in the corner of the bed, curled into a ball beside Riza's pillow.

Riza reaches out and scratches gently behind his ears. His tail twitches.

"He's spoiled, you know," Roy notes.

"He knows it's not his bed," Riza protests.

Roy murmurs insincere assent against her jaw. Riza lightly elbows him in the stomach.


	17. Preparation

**Author's Note:** Takes place just prior to the major events of the Promised Day.

* * *

**Preparation**

They didn't come here for this, but Riza's pressed up against the safehouse wall anyway, legs tight around his waist.

Roy's hands follow the curve of her thighs and she can't stop kissing him. He presses closer, mumbling nonsense and her hand cards through his hair.

Roy makes a sound that's too loud for Fuery and Breda, on watch outside, to ignore, but muffles it in her shoulder.

They should be more careful, like always—measured, deliberate, and holding themselves in—but it's hours until another war begins. They're as ready as they can manage.

It's too late for caution.


End file.
